Abram's Daughters 03 The Sacrifice (23 page)

^Hl there as our own."

^Slu' figured he'd suggest that. "Just today I talked to Dat

^11 iliis, and he wants to do his part raising Lydiann and

^Hjl Ic turned and gazed at her. "Surely ya know I would do

^Hilc-ver it took to make ya my bride." There was a strange

^Hhincy in his voice. "But, Leah, I want to have my own

IPlly with you . . . make a home separate from our parents.

fh>\\'\ you?"

" '('ourse it do, but things have changed now since Kliiiiiniii died." Breathing deeply, she stared ahead at BlackJilhl Pond, where they'd played as youngsters. "I just. . ." She

Unit she couldn't go on.

m "What is it, dear?"

H She felt his arms around her unexpectedly. "Living apart

bfti Abe and Lydiann just doesn't fit with my promise to

ktmna."

Hi "But we're meant for each other," he broke in, fervor in

B* words. "I love ya so."

f She tried not to cry. "Honestly I don't know what to do,"

2201O e d e r I tj =i_- e ta> i s

she said softly. She didn't tell him she'd moved Abe's cradlr into her own bedroom, that she knew clearly her infani brother had bonded with her . . . that she couldn't imagine passing the responsibility nor the maternal love off to either Aunt Lizzie or Hannah, as Dat had suggested.

"I've waited this long for ya, Leah. Surely I can get Abram to see the light to let us raise his little ones in our own house."

"My father won't change his mind on this," she replied sadly. "I know that for sure."

They clung fast to each other, there beneath the lone willow tree, where the recent snow weighed down each slender branch and the pond was frozen over rock hard. Where they, their sisters, and parents had ice skated, built bonfires on tinshore, and played hockey on sunny winter days.

"How can I let you go?" Gid caressed her face;: "I'd be crazy to."

"Oh, Gid," her voice trembled. , .: ..::.

"There must be some other way." ., ' :

"Surely there is," she whispered. "Surely."' : ;

Sitting at the supper table, Gid stared hopelessly at tinmeat loaf, marbled mashed potatoes, and scalloped asparagus, He could hardly bring himself to pick up the serving dislu-s when they were passed.

"Something botherin' you, son?" Mamma eyed him cmi ously. , He would have to make himself eat. There was no sharinc

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lili iunl Leah's problem tonight. Romantic difficulties were

lii- v vt Npokcn of to parents, though at times, he felt such a tra-

>ln inn Wiis fo an extent ridiculous, especially when his older and

1 i 'iff father might have some powerful-good advice to offer.

.Somehow or other, something had to give. If it meant

I .11- ing privately with Abram, he would. He couldn't simply

II ' hi* engagement to Leah come to an end. Nothing must be

11 i nlltteil to put a wedge between them . . . not even a dying

i'. .iher's plea!

+

Hubert Schwartz paced the college corridor, eager for ltd I results of a pre-Christmas theology exam. He recoiled he memory of both Thanksgiving and Christmas: Elias tlf'us's death . . . and Derek's surprise visit. Still, the Plain Ki\i man's passing had caused a tremendous religious stir Biig Elias's own people. God had reached down in goodness I grncf, turning the tragedy into a spiritual victory. Robert wished he could say the same of his brother's brief Irn home. Christmas Day had been a far cry from his boyIt! memories of baked-ham dinners and laughter as the Illy gathered to decorate the tree on Christmas Eves. Derek I lu>m not only irritable but dreadfully sullen after cornIIu une from a "long walk," as he'd put it, and no amount persuading on either Dad's or Mother's part could bring Hi imwnd. He'd wanted "something strong to drink" when

itormed back into the house. After not having seen him

1 much of the afternoon, their parents spent a miserable

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evening waiting for the prodigal to return, which did not happen until long past midnight.

Robert had been reluctant to leave Dad and Mother

alone, but he wanted to get away and pray for a time. Following supper, he drove to Quarryville and found solace in the stillness of the vacant church, pleading for God's help on behalf of his lost brother . . . and the grieving Amish family who had suffered the greatest loss of all. ,, ; .... -

Leah could think of nothing else but her talks with both Dat and Gid as she dressed Abe in his tiny pajamas, kissing each little hand as she guided it through the sleeve opening. She was truly glad for Hannah's offer to help with combing Lydiann's hair and getting her ready for bed, though she knew dear Hannah had her share of things to do in the kitchen and elsewhere. She has a knack for sensing my mood, Leah thought, grateful for Hannah and missing her other sisters terribly.

The house feels too empty, she pondered, carrying Abe downstairs to warm his milk bottle. Having Smithy Gid live heresurely would fill up the place . . . and Dat wouldn't be so outnumbered.

Yet she'd seen the look of disappointment in Gid's eyes, and she knew she couldn't take away his rightful place as head of his household. Besides, their own babies would most likely come along soon enough, and how complicated would it be for Gid to assume the fatherly role for his flesh-and-blood children but not for Lydiann and Abe? The problem naggedat her till she was altogether weary of it. :' ;., ,.

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<223a c r i f I <

I As soon as Abe was nestled in his cradle and asleep, Leah led the bedroom door and went to the bureau. Taking out lie's letter to Mamma, she curled up on the bed and hugged I lister's former pillow as she read.

Ipecember 15, 1947\Dearest Mamma,

I I hope at least one of the letters I've written ends up being trecul by you eventually. Christmas is coming soon and the tMellinger children are ever so happy. David and Vera's new Ihtiby is already a month old and as sweet as can be. I Jonas loves playing with the little ones, maybe more so I than some young men 1 know. He's been so kind to me, \hiamma you just don't know. I think it's because he wants ihings to turn out well for me. I suppose I should tell you that ..:' I Irroke down one night and cried out my woes to him about having a baby out of wedlock with an Englisher and all. He'd offered to go walking with me after supper, and 1 just couldn't keep the truth inside any longer. You probably wonder how I could tell him such a thing, especially when I wanted to keep it a secret from everyone else back home.

When all was said and done, I did the right thing by sharing with Jonas that I was "damaged goods." He said he wanted to help me, felt sorry for me ... wanted to make sure I was cared for. That I should be looked after by a kind and good husband. 1 thought he meant himself . . . and he did. He said he would marry me then and there.

Of course, I argued it might be too soon, what with his having been in love with Leah and engaged and all, but he ii\sisted we get married following my six-week Proving time. We talked a lot about that, too, and how the brethren here seemed to understand my plight, not sharing my sinful past

224cBl

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with the People. Honestly I felt the Lord God must be looking, out for my shi'Weary soul. So in my next letter to you, I'll be writing to say 1 am a happily married woman. Jonas's Sadie, I'll be. I know you don't approve, Mamma, but I had to share these things with you.

I trust you, Dat, and Aunt Lizzie- are all right. Don't cry for me, Mamma. God has a way of leading wayward souls to Him. Write to me again, please? I miss you so . . . and my sisters, too.

I know you can't tell Dat or anyone else in the family how much I love them if you read this letter, that is but I surely do. I hope there might come a day when we will see each other again face-tO'face.

. .;., :.,. / . "' ';>. ,' AH my love,' [ > ... '... Your firstborn, Sadie

Holding the letter, Leah stared at it, unseeing. The welcoming curve of the familiar handwriting blurred all too quickly. Sadie had shared her sinful ways with Jonas, as well as the news of her stillborn baby, after having resisted doing so to the brethren here, when and where it was most necessary. How was it so easy for her to do that in Ohio? Had she fallen for Jonas's dear smile, his gentle eyes?

Not wanting to dwell on this, she let her angry tears flow freely, pushing the pillow aside. Had Sadie somehow used her wicked past to purposely play on Jonas's sympathy, kind and compassionate man that he was? My sister dared to combine hersin with yet another stealing my beloved beau! How could she!

Reaching over, she pulled Sadie's pillow toward her and rose, carrying it with her. She thought of pushing it under the bed where cobwebs and clumps of dust formed faster than she

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miM keep up, especially now that she was busy caring for a !! whom, as well as a two-and-a-half-year-old. Beneath the I.. 'I Wiis ;i good idea, because she would not have to look at tin1 pillow hidden there, recalling the nights she and Sadie Imil f*hiircd their fondest hopes and dreams, lying side by side, ilielr brads resting happily on their pillows.

hut no, she'd had enough of those memories. Breathing IhiiiI, Leah carried the pillow all the way downstairs to the

11 ih| cellar, where she stuffed it deep into the heart of Sadie's i ill I hope chest, giving it a good solid pounding before closing i lie I id. I never want to see this again!

With that she felt she was also willing to live out her ivlmli1 lile long without ever seeing Sadie again.

hiuk upstairs, she took the letter and began to rip it into

Mb iiiiiny as pieces as her anger would allow. I do this for poor

HuDirma, she thought, giving in to a rising resentment she'd

PPtOtiis'lit she had long put to rest. And this is for Dat and Aunt

I i,'X,lc . . . for Hannah and Mary Ruth . . . hydiann and Abe.

Stopping, Leah realized she was shaking uncontrollably. I must surely desfgse Sadie, she thought, realizing it was true. She i nntinued on, tearing the small pieces into even tinier ones. Ihh is for Abram's Leah . . . who surely I will be forevermore.

226v&ts4-&-t- / -if- e, sh* 4-if - /tc^/t}-

Be

JDefore her baby brother awakened for the morning, Leali hurried to pen a note to Vera Mellinger in Millersburg, Ohio, hoping to get word of Mamma's passing to her older sister, Halfway through the letter, after sharing the joyous news ol tiny Abe's birth and his good health in spite of the trauma, she noticed her jaw was clenched.

Leaning back against the headboard of her bed, she deliberately tried to relax. Calm yourself, she thought, but doing sc > was a whole different matter. The horrid way she felt about Sadie after reading her letter yesterday, well, she'd just as soon let her older sister continue on in her ignorance, not knowing one speck about Mamma. But such an attitude was cruel, even spiteful, and she knew better than to harbor bitterness. So Leah made herself continue writing, ending with a plea for Vera to write back as soon as she could. Please tell me how toget word to my sister Sadie.

She signed off the way Mamma had taught her and quickly wrote her full name. Sealing the envelope, she placed the stamp in the proper place and hurried downstairs to don

227Qjacrifict

In I woolen cape and snow boots. At the mailbox in front of ilit1 house, she pushed the letter inside and looked about her, inrnliirily glad for the predawn darkness.

I he serenity soothed Leah, and she breathed in the icy Mi, relieved to have accomplished washing and drying the I tiillly's laundry two days ago, on Monday's washday. With I lunnuh and Lizzie's help, she'd hung out the many baby items "il tliu line, though it had been quite tedious in the wrenchii iy cold. Miriam Peachey had come over, bringing a large pot l corn chowder, which everyone enjoyed at noon, especially I Ml iind Dawdi John. And she'd asked Aunt Lizzie to keep I liumna's old knit scarf and mittens at her house conceal

11ii iii, really. Surely Dat would overlook Leah's momentary I'i(Illness when he came around years down the road and m illi.'I'll how important it had been to hang on to at least one iii'iu of Mamma's.

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh myIn l/i, she thought silently while trudging back to the house.

She knew she must go talk with Dr. Schwartz sometime

nun possibly with Lorraine, too. They must be told that

ill hough she wished to keep her part-time job, she was needed nearly twenty-four hours a day here at home. The idea i hill maybe Mary Ruth might come and take care of Abe and I ydi;inn. for several hours of a Saturday dropped into her niiiul. But then again, there was the problem of Dat's determined stance Mary Ruth was not at all welcome in the luiuse. Nix that idea. She might ask Aunt Lizzie, though . .. if what ideas she might have.

On the way around the back to the kitchen door, she happened to hear her aunt's boots clumping down the snow-

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la J2c

covered mule road. "Hullo, Leah!" Lizzie called.

"'Mornin', Aendi!" Leah called back, standing near the back stoop, waiting and shivering, too. What would we do withoutsweet Lizzie? Life would be ever so empty without Mamma's

sister near.

Once she and Lizzie were back indoors, she opened the grate on the wood stove and they warmed their hands and feet together. Lizzie asked, "Are ya feelin' all right, honeygirl?"

Leah nodded. "I feel numb when I think of Mamma. But

when I'm holding Abe and Lydiann, things tend to change in me . . . some."

"'The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.'" Lizzie put her arm around Leah.

Ain't that the truth. She thought again of Sadie's revealing letter to Mamma.

She sighed and went to the window near the long table. "I found something in Mamma's drawer," she began, "when I cleared out her personal things for Dat."

Lizzie came and sat at the head of the table, where Dat always sat at mealtime.

"Seems to me Mamma may have hidden one of Sadie's letters away on purpose." She turned and looked at Lizzie. "What do ya make of that?" : ''.